


Day 319

by Josh_the_Bard



Series: A Year in Kirkwall [319]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27583310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josh_the_Bard/pseuds/Josh_the_Bard
Series: A Year in Kirkwall [319]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589257
Kudos: 1





	Day 319

Today was a very exciting day for Alvin, as much as anything in his life was to be exciting anymore. Today he would be allowed out into the world to do some actual chanting. He was nowhere near finished memorizing the chant of light, but he was far enough along that the powers that be were comfortable letting the general public listen to his proselytizing. Not alone of course, his mentor would be joining him. Alvin still didn’t know what the man’s name was, but he supposed it didn’t matter. He supposed his own name no longer mattered. He was simply Chanter.

They would be standing by the chanter’s board supervising the odd jobs people had posted there. Alvin had occasionally taken jobs from the board himself in his days as a mercenary. It would be interesting to see it from the other side.

Except no, it wouldn’t. His life was boring now, except for the stories he could pull from the Chant of Light itself.

“Let all repeat the Chant of Light. Only the Word dispels the darkness upon us,” said Alvin’s mentor. That was his way or starting their business he supposed. Alvin gave the man a nod and tried to pick a suitable verse to recite in response. The hardest part was not the memorization, but figuring out how to have a conversation using only the approved sentences.

“‘Speak only the Word; sing only the Chant. Then the Golden City is thine,’ spoke Andraste.” That seemed to appease him and the two men headed out.

It was a truly tedious day. Most of the jobs on the board were widows and invalids, like Alvin, asking for someone to fix damage to their homes or people looking for specific, yet terrible mundane, items. One man was looking for a baker to make a cake for his wife’s birthday but could only pay in fish. 

“Though the lands suffer a thousand wrongs, the Maker yet notices the smallest of deeds.” Alvin’s mentor was quick to remind him. That was the chanter’s favorite verse and he said it over and over again all day.

The other part of the job was giving out rewards. Sometimes people would leave something to reward people with when they posted the jobs. Sometimes the Chantry would offer up rewards as an act of charity. With no hands, Alvin could not hand out the rewards himself, but he could watch the people to make sure they took only what they were owed. One of the sisters had assured him that no one would dare steal from the Chantry, especially not a chanter but towards the end of the day there were two men who tried.

They were turning in a bounty on rat-tails that they had cleared out of a residential neighborhood. The posting said they were worth a silver piece per tail but they tried to take two sovereigns for seventeen. Alvin laid a stump on their hands to hold them up but had no idea what to say. Before becoming a chanter he would have told them to make change before he put his boot up their asses but he was pretty sure that wasn’t part of the Chant.

“Those who steal from their brothers and sisters do harm to their livelihood and to their peace of mind. Our Maker sees this with a heavy heart.” said the older chanter. That was surprisingly apt.

“Yah?” said one of the men. “And what are you going to do about it?” 

“Maybe we’ll just take everything in this box,” said the other. Things were escalating quickly and Alvin’s mentor recoiled from the thieves. There must be templars about but Alvin couldn't see any nearby at the moment. His mentor regained his sense and made a grab for the box of coins but one of the men shoved him hard. He tripped and fell, striking his head hard on the cobblestones. This was unexpected but it was familiar. Alvin had been in countless fights before but he felt helpless. He had no weapons and even if he did, he had no hands to hold them anymore. Still, you looked out for your brothers, that was a rule that held true anywhere.

“Those who bring harm without provocation to the least of His children are hated and accursed by the Maker.” He shouted as loud as he could. Hopefully the templars would hear and come to investigate. All he needed to do was delay them a few moments. The brigands assumed a priest with no hands was no threat to them and attacked.

The first punch was a wild swing all power and no skill. Alvin easily avoided it and drove his knee into his attacker’s stomach before he could regain his balance. The man doubled over gasping for air and his companion moved in. This man at least knew how to throw a decent punch, coming straight in for Alvin’s nose. Alvon’s left hand ended at the wrist but you only needed a forearm to block a punch. The man was so surprised he didn’t even try to resist and Alvin kicked out his knee. The man tumbled down and Alvin brought his own knee up to meet the man’s face as it fell towards the ground. There was a loud crack as the man’s nose exploded and his neck snapped back into hyperextension. Not a beak but the man would feel that for a few days at least.

The first thief was back on his feet, a blade in his hand. He jabbed for Alvin’s middle but the seasoned warrior sidestepped it easily. 

“And I heard from the East a great cry,” he said, sending a snap kick into the man’s hand, knocking the dagger loose. “As men who were beasts warred with their brothers, Tooth and claw against blade and bow.” Without putting his foot to the ground, Alvin sent out another kick into the man’s already bruised belly. He crumpled to the ground just as the templars arrived and started dragging both men away. 

“Until one could no longer be told from the other.” Even this early in the training, Alvin could not bear to leave the verse unfinished. “and cursed them and cursed their generations.”

He went over to his mentor who was now getting shakily to his feet.

“Blessed are they that stand before the corrupted and the wicked and do not falter,” said the chanter.

“Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just,” Alvin finished. Maybe his life was not going to be too boring after all.


End file.
